


evil spirits (telephone game group B)

by sevdrag (seventhe)



Series: BT Tower Telephone Group B [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Telephone Game, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley always have something up their sleeves. Literally.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: BT Tower Telephone Group B [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937806
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	evil spirits (telephone game group B)

**Author's Note:**

> [more notes to come once the entire thing has been posted!!!! i cannot wait!! i am a simple creechur]

“Now, dear boy,” Nanny said clearly from the living room. “Look at this tree. Did you do this yourself?”

Warlock laughed. “I had some help,” he told her. The tree was a tribute to holiday chaos: Wensleydale had purchased some very fancy looking baubles at a Marks & Spencer’s, Brian had brought microwave popcorn and thread, and Pepper and Adam had come with a bunch of crafting bits and bobbles to make their own ornaments. Other friends of Warlock’s had come by with an ornament or five once they heard he was actually decorating, and the tree was a collection of shabby and chic. Warlock actually loved it desperately, but he stood for a second looking at Crowley and Aziraphale, wondering whether they would judge his humble attempt.

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale said, in that tone of voice Warlock remembered from a long time ago; thick with not just love, but fondness too, and appreciation. (Warlock knew his parents loved him in some odd distant way, but he’d come to find their love was a stiff thing, too much like an obligation.) “It’s full of love. Beautiful.”

“It’s trashy,” Nanny said, placing an arm on her hip. “I love it.”

“ _Crowley,”_ said Aziraphale, but he was smiling as he said it. 

“Can I get you anything?” Pip asked, coming around the corner. “Refreshments?”

“Drinks!” Warlock yelled, and then felt himself blush as they all turned to stare at him. “I mean, would you like some?”

Nanny grinned, and slid a hand inside her delicate blazer. “We brought some,” she said, pulling out a bottle of wine that looked like something Warlock had seen his mother buy.

“That was never in your jacket,” Pip said, sounding amazed. 

Warlock, having seen Nanny do a lot worse, grinned back. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “She has some very impressive pockets.”

“Oh, and here,” said Aziraphale, reaching into his waistcoat with the kind of smile that twinkled with mischief. “A white, for those who prefer it.” Another bottle of wine seemingly materialized from the depths of his clothing, and he happily handed it to Pip.

“Get _bent,_ ” she breathed, and Nanny chuckled.

Aziraphale wiggled in pride, squaring his shoulders. “Don’t you remember my magic show at your, well.” He cleared his throat. “Your eleventh birthday.”

Warlock groaned, reaching out to take both bottles. “I wish I didn’t. It’s seared into my memory.”

Aziraphale turned to Nanny, saying, “Oh, I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Nanny murmured something back to him that Warlock couldn’t hear. Aziraphale’s creased brow melted into another smile, and Warlock was — jealous wasn’t the right word, because there was nothing negative about the feeling, but it filled him with an odd sense of satisfaction, seeing it. Nanny’s sharp edges had been smoothed; Brother Francis had lost the idealism (and the teeth) and was more calmly rooted in what was happening now.

Warlock was filled with sudden thanks that they were here. Who would have expected, amongst everything weird that had happened in his life, that he would be here with them now? With a tree smothered in mismatched lights and a menorah ready to be lit; with food in the warmer and wine ready to be opened? It was perfect. 

Pip nudged him with her elbow. “Here.” 

Warlock shook his head, refocusing. This had tended to happen before, when he’d seen Crowley and Aziraphale; this strange state where his emotions all felt magnified. Luckily, he really only felt positive emotions around them, but still.

Nanny had a glass of the red and was leaning up against the back of the couch, her long legs crossed at the ankles. Aziraphale had a glass of the white; Pip had also taken white and given Warlock red. This fondness was almost too much, but the season and all — Warlock could blame it on sentimentality.

“Cheers, then,” he said, raising his glass. He clinked Pip, then Aziraphale, then Nanny in that order.

“You drink after toasting,” Nanny drawled. “The sound scares away the evil spirits, but only if you drink.”

“Evil spirits,” Aziraphale huffed, rolling his eyes, but he took a sip.

Warlock did as well. The red was intense but not deep, ending on a softer note, full of fruit flavors that weren’t sweet but ended lightly on his tongue. He wondered for a moment where Nanny had gotten the wine — and then decided that was the kind of question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.

“Oh look,” said Aziraphale, smirking slightly. “The evil spirit’s still here.”

Nanny grinned and bowed, without spilling a drop of her wine, and Warlock loved her fiercely.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a quiet (birth)day in](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650015) by [freyjawriter24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24)




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